


As Best We Could

by RoseCathy



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 21:51:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1723688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseCathy/pseuds/RoseCathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stoke Me a Clipper and beyond. Rimmer-as-Ace meets another Lister.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There was no hope. Rimmer knew that now.

“They all did it. They all became Ace and passed on the flame. Are you really gonna be the one to break the chain?”

If Lister cared anything for him, he wouldn’t be doing this.

Rimmer felt certain that if their roles had been reversed, he would have begged Lister to stay, pride or no pride. He would have torn the lid off his carefully repressed feelings and confessed everything — that he couldn’t bear for them to be parted, that he could never, ever send Lister to what was sure to be a violent death. That he couldn’t imagine waking up every day in a universe that had no Dave Lister in it.

But Lister was happy for him to go, because preserving the smegging chain was more important than he was.  
  


Rimmer kept the concurrent universe in his mind running smoothly. While Ace was rescuing his first princess, Rimmer was sipping tea in the midsection with Lister. Just another morning on Starbug.

Ace lay supine in his ship, catching his breath after a battle against giant spike-shelled crabs. Rimmer lay contentedly under a blanket that he didn’t need, his arm keeping a warm, wriggling Lister pulled tight to him.

“What a guy!” exclaimed the captain of the SS Hephaestus, waving vigorously at a departing Ace.

“You’re beautiful,” Lister proclaimed, gently taking Rimmer’s face in his hands.

  


It took him two years — rather a long time, Rimmer thought — to meet a Lister.

He was identical to his Lister — _the real one_ , as Rimmer was wont to think of him. The differences between this dimension and his own were trivial, just enough to keep him on his toes. Little things like the arrangement of the furniture in the sleeping quarters, the colour of the stripes on Cat’s outfit, and so forth, not that they mattered a great deal; in his current condition, Rimmer was most interested in the medi-bay.

Lister, who was (of course) eager to help Ace, bent over to examine the side of his face. “That’s a nasty cut, man. Could you take the wig off?”

Rimmer peeled the thing off gladly before it hit him. “How did you know?!” he squeaked, unconsciously dropping all Ace-related pretence.

Lister didn’t answer right away. He gently wiped the blood and grit from Rimmer’s scalp, eyes narrowed in concentration. Finally, he tossed the now-grimy cloth into a kidney bowl and met Rimmer’s eyes.

“We used to have a Rimmer.”

Oh.

Rimmer had assumed that his counterpart had hidden away somewhere, unwilling to deal with His Royal Smarminess Ace Rimmer. It was what he’d have done.

“Seven years ago…well, you know how it goes. You went through the same thing.” Lister fiddled with a button on his overalls. “He jumped at the chance to get off Red Dwarf.”

“Er.” Rimmer could not picture any version of himself (the original Ace excepted, smug bastard) “jumping at the chance” to take the mantle, however tedious life in deep space might be.

“We were really young, but he was always like that. Never thought about consequences, you know? He liked a bit of danger. He nearly got us all killed more than once…” Lister paused. “Something wrong?”

“Sorry, it’s only…” Rimmer trailed off as he realised that the Ace from this dimension must not have been the one who’d trained him. He’d heard that one’s story from Lister — something involving a stolen time drive, cross-dressing, and a flower shop in the Napoleonic era. Anyway, with an attitude like that, this Lister’s Rimmer couldn’t have lasted long.

“Only what?”

 _I’m a coward, you see. And my Lister despised me for it._ “Well, I personally prefer a quieter life. More settled, more mature. I was never one for swashbuckling.”

“Then why did you…” Lister gestured at the BacoFoil outfit.

Rimmer didn’t like to think back to that day. _“It’s just you, you know, the next Ace? The very idea!”_ “It was my destiny,” he said dully. “Apparently.”

The answering expression on Lister’s face stilled his artificial heartbeat. He couldn’t recall his Lister ever looking so profoundly sad, not even after he’d been chucked by Kochanski or realised once and for all that he was the last human alive. Nor had he heard Lister’s voice so subdued. “Wish mine had been more like you,” it intoned, accompanied by a humourless chuckle.

Rimmer didn’t understand.

  


Ace, thankfully rid of the flight suit now as well as the wig, perched on the edge of the lower bunk and looked around with some discomfort. Unlike the upper bunk, it was bare; there was no indication that an Arnold J Rimmer had inhabited it once upon a time, not even a No Smoking sign on the wall.

Meanwhile, Rimmer was having trouble keeping his eyes open, weighed down by both a delicious exhaustion and a warm body draped across his…

“Rimmer?”

The Lister in his mind fell away as the Lister in this dimension came into view and stood before him.

“That’s okay, isn’t it? If I call you Rimmer?”

That made Rimmer laugh. “Yes. I never wanted this ‘Ace’ malarkey anyway,” he assured Lister. Before he could stop and question why he was opening up to this stranger, he found himself saying more: “I miss it, actually. It makes me feel more like a real person.”

Lister grinned — out of mocking amusement, Rimmer thought. “What a stupid thing to say,” he blustered. “I’m a hologram, of course I’m not a - ”

“You’re real enough for me.”

The quiet declaration startled Rimmer into silence. Outside of his dreams and the parallel universe that thrived in one corner of his mind, he hadn’t heard Lister’s voice so soft with affection.

He wanted to say something, anything, to continue the conversation in a non-awkward manner, but his brain wouldn’t cooperate. Not when Lister was staring at him as if he’d just discovered something new and precious. The look twisted something that lived in the darkest part of his soul, and he was overcome by a wave of longing.

Then Lister’s face crumpled, and he half-fell down onto the bunk next to Rimmer. For the next few minutes, the only sound in the room was erratic breathing; Lister was trying to get himself under control.

Rimmer was just beginning to think that he should resume the Ace mask for a little while and offer a manly, comforting back-pat — it was still his job to tend to those in distress — when Lister suddenly spat out, “I know he’s dead.”

Rimmer gulped.

“I know he’s dead, he’s been dead a long time. I knew he was going to…” Lister wiped at his face with a sleeve. “I asked him not to go.”

Ah. So this Lister, it was turning out, was not identical to his.  
Rimmer’s second thought was that his counterpart must have been an utter git. No, worse than that. What sort of unfeeling monster was he that he’d left Lister so he could go and play the hero?

That was essentially what he himself had done, with one crucial difference: His Lister had asked him to go.

The other Lister had more to say. “I should’ve told him. I should have just smegging told him, but I didn’t because I wasn’t completely sure. Stupid.”

“Told him?”

“How I felt about him.”

_Oh, god._

“You must have had a Lister in your dimension,” Lister continued, wide-eyed. “Didn’t you…didn’t he…”

For the second time, Rimmer laughed at something this Lister had said, but this time the laugh was silent and devoid of mirth. “He wasn’t like you.” At that moment, he hated both his Lister and the other Rimmer, the oblivious, cruel, selfish - 

When they looked back on this later, neither of them could recall who had started it. One minute, they were sitting side by side, each stewing in his own emotions; the next, they were lying on the bunk in a tangle of limbs, kissing, as though they did this together every day.

Rimmer came to his senses first. He broke away and forced himself to face Lister, who was again looking at him like… _that._

“Will you stay with me?”

He wasn’t sure whether it meant for the time being or for all time. Being a coward, he didn’t ask which.

“Yes.”

  


Kryten and the Cat generally treated him with polite detachment. He gathered from conversations that despite the bravery, they hadn’t been overly fond of the previous Rimmer. Something to do with clashing personalities and tastes, although that was largely moot now that he’d been gone for seven years and left a gaping hole in the crew. Learning this made him feel better; whatever superior qualities the man might have had, he hadn’t exactly been, well, Ace.

He spent most of his free time in the top bunk. It was messy and cramped, but it felt more familiar, more like home than the lower one, whose bareness was too much even for him.

One day, he caught Lister gazing adoringly at him, and he felt compelled to say something: “I’m not him.”

He winced at the harshness of his own voice; Lister just chuckled and cuffed him gently on the arm. “I know that, smeghead. And you know _I_ ’m not _him_.”

Yes, he knew that. The Lister in his mind-universe was alive and well despite the decreased number of visits. At times, though, Rimmer found it impossible to tell which Lister was touching and kissing him with such fervour. It was probably the real one (that is, the one who was real and present in this dimension), but who could say for certain when the line between reality and fantasy was so blurred?

A soft calling of his name pulled him out of his confused thoughts. He looked over at Lister, the Lister who was snuggled up to him here and now, and saw an indefinable _something_ in his eyes. At the same time, he felt a hand on his body, hovering at the edge of new territory.

“What do you want?” he whispered. It wasn’t an accusation.

“Everything.”

Rimmer closed his eyes.

In one of his dreams, he made a triumphant return to his home dimension after several years of adventuring, a new man in many ways. The first person he encountered was Lister. “I’ve missed you so much, man!” he said, grinning, and came closer…

…Lister wasn’t waiting for him, no matter how much Rimmer would like to believe that he’d regretted his actions the moment Ace’s ship jumped out of sight, that absence had made the heart grow fonder. It was all nonsense.

“I’m not him,” he repeated. “I’m not brave or adventurous or - ”

“I don’t care.” The fierceness with which Lister said this made him open his eyes. “I like you.”

After that, it was so easy. Not the mechanics — those took some effort to work out — but the act of losing themselves in each other. The pride that surged in him when Lister let go and collapsed next to him, breathless, was stronger than anything he’d felt after one of his daring feats as Ace.

Ace. He was going to have to recruit a successor. Lister had asked him to stay, and who was he to refuse?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter begins some years after Series VIII, assuming that (1) the alternate ending to “Only the Good” took place and (2) Kochanski found a way back to her Dave. ~~It’s my story and I’ll do what I want with the continuity or lack thereof.~~

Lister knew right away that this wasn’t his Rimmer. Something about the way his eyes and lips moved. The voice was definitely wrong, and not just because it was put on.

He had prayed that he’d never see this day. He knew in his heart of hearts that the chances of Rimmer coming back alive, whether like in his dream or much later on when they’d grown old, were very small. Infinitesimal. Yet he’d continued to hope, because when Rimmer returned — no doubt a braver and happier man, made so by his adventures — his conscience would finally be eased.

Now, all he could see in his mind’s eye was the ring of golden coffins. His Rimmer was there too, set a little apart from the others, alone even in rest.

“Ace,” he managed.

“Skipper! Always good to see you! You too, Arn!”

Rimmer suffered his hand to be shaken, eyebrows raised at the newcomer. He’d heard a decent amount about Ace from the others, about the swagger and the ridiculous hair, and Lister had confided in him about the succession of Aces, but there was no way that this _fop_ could be…

“How did it happen?” Lister’s voice was barely audible, his face sad and drawn. What was wrong with him? And what was he talking about?

Ace didn’t seem to understand, either. “Don’t know what you mean, Skipper.”

“You’re not - ” Lister cleared his throat. “You’re not him. My Rimmer. That means he’s died. How did he die?” There. He’d got the words out, so now he could face them. Maybe.

Ace’s expression changed rapidly; first great confusion, then comprehension crossed his face. “Oh, I see! You thought - no, no! My fault for not saying so right away, Davey-Boy. The Arn you sent off is alive and well. I knew this dimension was his — he taught me to recognise it, you see. Although…” he trailed off. His artfully arranged wig flopped about as he looked from Lister to Rimmer and back, only now digesting the situation. “You do seem to collect them.”

  


When Ace explained to Lister that his predecessor had settled down in another dimension, told him that he’d be happy to take Lister for a visit, he literally jumped for joy. Visions of the various horrible deaths that he’d imagined for Rimmer evaporated as readily as they’d come into his mind. Absolution, or something like it, at last.

Rimmer followed him into their quarters and watched as he rummaged in his locker for nothing in particular. A memento from home? Rimmer hadn’t taken his diary, which had been one of Lister’s only entertainments when he’d first come out of stasis. Surely there were times Rimmer thought back fondly to those strange early days.

“Don’t go.”

The abruptness of the command made Lister turn around. Rimmer was looking straight at him, fists clenched and shoulders tensed as if for a battle. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen that pose; Rimmer had rarely had cause to assume it since - 

“I don’t want you to go.” This time it was a plea, and Rimmer’s voice shook almost imperceptibly.

“Why not?” Lister asked, crossing the room and taking both fists — hands — in his own. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes,” Rimmer snapped. “Him.”

“Who, Ace? Oh, come on - ”

“No, not Ace,” he cut in impatiently. “ _Him_. The other me. You want to see him.”

“Well, yeah.” Hadn’t they just discussed this? “That’s the whole point, innit?”

“Do you still miss him?”

Sometimes, there was no making sense of Rimmer and his absurdities. “Yes, I miss him! We travelled together for six years, and, well…I’ve told you how I feel about what happened.” _I need to tell him I’m sorry for chucking him out into the cold._

Rimmer resisted Lister’s attempts to draw them together. “The problem is how he feels about you.”

“What do you - ” _oh. Oh._ Lister stifled a laugh. Some of Rimmer’s traits would never change no matter how happy he was. “Rimmer, man, whatever you’re thinking, you’ve got it wrong. It’s not like he was in love with me or anything.”

“Don’t be so stupid, Lister,” Rimmer burst out with some violence, wrenching his hands away. “Of course he was in love with you! He’s me!”

Lister gawped at him, stunned.

“You what?”

“Of course he…oh, this is _rich._ ”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Lister protested, frowning in utter bafflement.

Rimmer frowned right back at him, though he didn’t seem to be angry anymore. “Dave,” he asked, his tone surprisingly gentle, “how could he be me — not some alternate version, actually me — and _not_ love you?”

“Because…” _Because he wasn’t with me in the Brig,_ he’d been about to say, but something about that rang false. Rimmer Mark 1 may not have served a prison sentence with him, but they’d been through so much else together, a truly bizarre sequence of events over six years. And there had been…

 _“I think I’ve always wanted this in a way,”_ Rimmer Mark 2 had admitted at some point after their heady, slightly tipsy first kiss, trying not to meet Lister’s eyes, _“even though you’re a total slob and a goit and mmrbphl.”_ At the time, Lister had been too absorbed in what they were doing to consider the implications, so -

_Oh, smeg._

“Oh, god.”

“Oh, Listy.” The affection in Rimmer’s voice simultaneously soothed and scared him. “You’re an oblivious bastard, you know that?” His head was spinning, the sense of absolution a distant memory.

  


It was taking Lister longer than usual to recover. Reluctantly, he pushed Rimmer partway off him so that he could breathe more freely.

Although neither of them would directly acknowledge it, tonight had been about a need to possess and to mark territory, as it were. Lister didn’t mind at all; there had been plenty of other times like this, and the results were usually fantastic. He guessed, correctly, that this instance had helped Rimmer exorcise something.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he murmured into the side of Lister’s face.

“That tickles!”

“Sorry.”

Lister sighed resignedly and wriggled closer. “You could come with me, you know,” he suggested. “It might be a laugh, meeting yourself.”

Rimmer snorted and tucked the duvet more securely around them. “That’s not the word I would have used. I was thinking more along the lines of _disaster_ or _total fiasco_.” In spite of himself, he began to feel intrigued by the idea. It was all Lister’s fault for being so charming, he decided.

“But what would I say to him?” _I’m happy and you’re not, so sorry about that?_

“Dunno.” Lister was falling asleep. “Just don’t fight about exercise…smeg.”

“What?”

“Tell you tomorrow.”

\------

The Kryten in this dimension was very pleased to meet them. “They’re in the medi-bay, sir.” _They?_ Ah, of course. Where there was a Rimmer, there was usually a Lister. “We’ve had a bit of a run-in with a rogue droid.”

The first thing they heard as they approached was a raised voice. “Reckless…nearly gave me a stroke! You do realise holograms can have strokes…”

Lister smiled. So not much had changed.

“I thought it’d be a laugh, all right? I was bored - oh, don’t look at me like that, Rimmer, you know what I mean. But look, see? I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not! Look at all _this,_ and this! That thing could have gone through your spine. You could have _died_!”

Deciding to put his counterpart out of his misery, Lister skipped ahead and poked his head into the medi-bay.

He was totally unprepared for what he saw. He’d expected the other Lister to be lying on one of the beds while Rimmer paced nearby, ranting away, but instead, they stood toe-to-toe. Rimmer’s hands were clamped on the other Lister’s shoulders, his face a picture of despair and something…

…something that was all too familiar. Lister had seen that look many times on Rimmer Mark 2, usually after he’d done something dangerous like forgetting to turn the oven off. It was invariably followed by a crushing hug and a plea to _never do that again, you goit_ \- 

He couldn’t help staring. Nor could he hold back the noise of surprise as the pair closed the minute gap between them and kissed desperately.

Kryten, ever the pragmatic one, cleared his throat. And once more. And again.

  


What happened immediately afterwards was inconsequential; what mattered was that Lister was now sat across a table from Rimmer Mark 1 in a room that resembled the first sleeping quarters they’d shared.

“It’s good to see you, man,” Lister ventured. “You look…good.”

Rimmer was unsure how to interpret this or anything else, especially the revelation that a resurrected version of him was now living on what had once been his Red Dwarf. Not just living, in fact.

“You and him,” he asked in the direction of the floor. “How long?”

“Years.”

 _Years._ That safe, vague answer was all he would get from this man who’d broken his heart a hundred times over. Once he might have demanded bitterly, _“Why him? Why not me? Why wasn’t I good enough?”_ He wasn’t that person anymore, or so he liked to think. Still - 

“You hurt me,” he whispered. “You kept hurting me and I kept…I was stupid.”

So it was true. Lister closed his eyes and counted to ten; he had to do this right. “I’m sorry.”

Rimmer swallowed hard and nodded.

Before either of them knew it, they had risen from their chairs and stepped closer, facing each other.

“I’m glad you’re alive,” Lister murmured. Rimmer took his face gently in both hands, and he closed his eyes again.

Once upon a time, Rimmer would have considered this the pinnacle of his ambition. The first soft touch of lips would have felt like fireworks, and the feel of Lister — _this_ Lister — in his arms would have felt like everything he’d ever wanted.

He wasn’t that person anymore.

  


All in all, it was another job well done. Oh, he’d had adventures that were far more exciting. This was really something, though. Two Listers and two Rimmers, deep in conversation and content, so clearly content with their respective lovers. Ace wasn’t particularly interested in what (whom) the other Rimmers had, but he was grateful for the hope that this scene instilled in his heart. He’d find someone one day, even if he was secretly neurotic Arnold Rimmer on the inside.

Maybe that was how Aces should retire: by settling down with someone who loved the man underneath the wig. Yes. The previous Ace had been an anomaly; he, the reigning Ace, would be the one to set the new pattern.


End file.
